


No Tears

by bradcpu



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, F/M, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-21
Updated: 2010-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:20:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bradcpu/pseuds/bradcpu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A happy Willow story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Tears

**Author's Note:**

> During the summer between Buffy seasons 4 and 5, I was challenged a to write "a happy Willow story." I tried. This is what happened.

It all seemed to start inside her; as if the rapture she was feeling had so overwhelmed her soul that it had come bursting from her, spreading outward until it became a world all its own.

Now Willow was walking through that world, barefoot and smiling. The grass tickled her feet. From the hilltop, she could see it spread out before her, a thick carpet blazing with such a glorious emerald green that it seemed to glow. It stretched on, broken here and there by vivid wildflowers that created blotches of fiery orange, of blushing pink, and of lilac. The swirl of brilliant color rolled and turned through a sun-splashed meadow, up a far hill, until it kissed a sky of magnificent powder blue, which was streaked with a rainbow that sparkled as if made of glitter.

She inhaled deeply. A warm, sweet air filled her with a breath that seemed to be made of joy itself. Her smile widened as it spread through her, warming its way to her fingers.

Reaching down to the emerald sea at her feet, she plucked a large yellow-orange flower and brought it to her nose. The bloom turned into a butterfly, which fluttered against her cheek, flew once around her head, and danced happily away, hovering just over the grass. She was left holding only a thin line of bright green, which, when she let it fall, stood upright again and immediately burst into another bloom, this time a luminous royal purple.

This was all so odd. She wasn't here a second ago. She had been... Was there something before this? Yes, she was sure there was, but she couldn't remember what. Just as she was sure she was on the verge of figuring it out, a breeze lifted her hair and playfully nipped the back of her neck, sending her into a fit of giggles. The only thing that was missing was-

"Hey," came a voice from behind her.

"Oz?" she said, even before turning around.

"Looks that way," said Oz with an uncharacteristically broad smile. Like Willow, he was positively glowing with happiness, his hair a natural sunlit reddish brown and his face beaming with unrestrained joy. It had the strange effect of making him look slightly younger than she remembered.

Suddenly Willow was embracing him, though she didn't remember either of them moving toward each other.

"I was just thinking about you," she said into his ear.

"I know."

Willow pulled away and turned back to the meadow. "This place... It's all so... I mean, it's wonderful here." She smiled again as Oz moved beside her to look out over the meadow. "And I don't want to be all gift-horse-in-the-mouthy, but I keep thinking there's something... not right. Are we supposed to be somewhere else?"

Oz just smiled.

He gestured in the direction he'd come from. "Come on," he said. His hand was in hers. "We've been waiting for you."

_____

Willow was sitting on a steep grassy slope at the edge of the water, her legs stretched out in front of her, and leaning back on her hands. The roar of a waterfall filled her ears as she followed its path from the powder blue sky, down an ivy-covered cliff face, and into the small pool, where Tara played gleefully in its mist.

"Aren't you coming in, scaredy cat?" Tara said. She was laughing, apparently unaware that her overlarge white T-shirt was now soaked, skin tight, and transparent.

Oz shot past Willow and, with a laugh from Tara and a shout of joy from Oz, he flipped head over heels into the water.

As he swam out, Willow caught Tara's attention and frantically gestured to her chest area, but Tara just stared back, confused. "Honey!" Willow said, abandoning all pretense and pulling her shirt out into points. "You know - oops!"

"Huh?" Tara smiled back, cocking her head.

Just then, Oz resurfaced, spraying Tara with water. She yelped and returned fire, laughing again. The water itself looked magical, sparkling and shimmering its way over the rocks. It was as if it, too, were made of the happiness that permeated this place. Each misty drop sang in the air.

Willow suddenly realized that she couldn't remember getting here, then she was struck with the familiar feeling that there was something she had forgotten; somewhere she had forgotten to be or something she was going to do. Or was it this place, the way something about it felt false - like a truth that was trying too hard?

The problem was that the vague haze of memories came only with a massive effort, and it was so easy here to not think at all, to just be swept along by the pull of happiness. She found that she was smiling again.

Willow fought the feeling and knotted her brow, desperately grasping for anything that wasn't here and now. Where was she before? A meadow. It was so wonderful there, and she hadn't wanted to leave. But she didn't...

Then there was another memory, one that seemed it was from long ago: her first trip to Paris. Maybe it happened when she was a little girl. No, it couldn't have been. Tara was there. Late one night they had stood together on a bridge over the Seine and talked about their future.

She didn't remember leaving there either.

"Will, watch this," yelled a youthful and giddy Oz. He grabbed the cliff face through its ivy cover and scaled up to a ledge under the waterfall.

"Oz! Be careful!" Willow screamed as he scampered to a dizzying height. Tara was still laughing.

He took two steps and flung himself off the side, falling headfirst at lethal speed toward the shallow pool. Willow's breath caught in her throat. But a few feet above the surface of the water, he slowed to an even stop in midair, turned right side up as if in slow motion, and landed softly on Tara's back with his legs over her shoulders.

Oz put his index finger to his lips and raised one eyebrow in a mock-pensive look. "Hmm. Where's Tara? I could have sworn she was around here somewhere." He looked around at the water in a playful search, calling her name. Tara was giggling.

Willow's smile had returned.

_____

It was night, and Willow was lying on her back next to a crackling fire and losing herself in the sky. The endless expanse of stars winked back, flickering in and out in a blurred, tri-colored dance that looked as if it were filtered through a prism.

The fire popped, followed by more laughter from Tara and Oz.

Willow tore her gaze from the stars and looked to the fire. The pops emitted a spray of orange sparks, each of which would whiz off in different directions like merry fireflies. Many lingered around Tara or Oz's face, floating playfully or kissing their cheeks.

"Where are the others?" Willow asked, suddenly concerned. "Buffy, a-and Xander, and everyone... they should see-"

"They'll be here," Oz said.

"Honey, look what I can do," said an excited Tara. She pointed and made a loop in front her with her right hand, and a group of sparks obediently flew in a circle, forming the letter "O." A second group followed a zigzag motion, and Oz's name was dancing in the air, bathing Tara's face in a reddish-orange glow.

They applauded, and Willow breathed a happy sigh as the sparks in front of Oz began spelling Tara's name.

Was she trying to remember something before? A sudden moment of clarity swept over her, and she was watching an image as if it had happened to someone else, a long time ago. There were two people on a bridge, kissing, the moon reflected in the Seine. A small group passed them. One of the faces was familiar. There was an exchange of unexpected glances, a disbelieving smile. And then a horrible feeling of terror that made her stomach drop. Big, dark eyes and loud words in a language she couldn't remember. A flash of magic. A sharp pain...

"Willow?" came Tara's voice. The memory died as Willow turned back toward the fire. Her name hung in front of Tara, illuminating a pouting face. "This isn't as much fun without you."

Willow smiled. "OK," she said with an easy resignation. "OK."

Somewhere far away, a tether broke free, a connection that Willow didn't know existed. She felt somehow lighter, and the nagging feeling that had plagued her drifted away on the warm breeze.

The sparks flew over her face, dancing in a cloud. Willow laughed as a few raindrops began to fall. One touched her cheek - it felt different from the rest. It was the last thing that would ever feel out of place here.

She got up and went to the fire, adding a third voice to the laughter.

_____

Buffy pulled a screaming Dawn away. It was the first sound Dawn had made in days. She knew it was a bad idea to bring her here, but she couldn't deny her this. Not after... mom.

She watched as Dawn's tear rolled down Willow's cheek; down the cold, alabaster skin. The pallor of death. Dawn was tearing at Xander's suit as he held her, doing his best to be comforting.

"We have to stop this," Xander said. "She said she didn't want this... she didn't want any of us to cry. Dammit! She fought for us - for three days in that coma. We can fight for her."

It was no use. His tears were flowing even as he spoke.

"Whoever did this to her... to Tara..." Xander began with a shaky rage, trying to find an outlet.

"He's dead," Buffy said. As she stared at the white skin, she thought of the body that had washed up two days ago on the banks of the Seine - the suicide of the third friend that the others weren't ready to hear about.

Anya tugged on Xander's arm. "Xander, I want to go. I can't keep doing this. I don't want to keep looking at the dead body." At the last word, her voice broke with grief. She covered her mouth and ran out, Xander following her.

Buffy kept staring, eyes wide. Lost in the absence of color, the rounded cheek touched with the hint of a smile. She spoke into the air, producing only a cracking whisper.

"She looks so happy."

At last, Buffy's expression contorted, her hands went to her face, and her tears fell freely onto the cold skin.

_____

In Willow's world, it had stopped raining.


End file.
